


Damsel in distress

by DoraTLG



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Lots of snogging, M/M, Q is a fluffy scared kitten, and James loves flying, plane fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoraTLG/pseuds/DoraTLG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have to fly again. That means Q is going to lose his shit. James, on the other hand, melts into the seat when their plane leaves the ground, and Q for a while forgets his fear just to stare at that little smile that James can't help.</p><p>“If I have a type, it seems to be damsels in distress. And assassins, sometimes.”</p><p>He turned his head so his lips were close to Q's ear.</p><p>“And you are cute.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damsel in distress

The Luton airport was a very small airport. James saw much bigger ones, used to fly with companies and planes that could carry hundreds of people. Now, walking towards the small plane in the evening darkness, he was slightly dissapointed. His expectations were higher than this little orange and white mashine. He could probably fly this thing by himself if he tried very hard.

Q by his side was, on the other hand, looking like he was expecting they will fly to Munich on the back of a turtle, his eyes too big behind his glasses and breath too quick. James looked at his grasping at the laptop bag and yes, they were shaking and his knuckles were white.

„Q?“ he asked and Q snapped his head at him. „Are you alright?“

Q just nodded once and turned his head straight again. James sighed. He had no idea how far would Q's fear of planes go, but it already looked quite serious.

“We will be OK, Q, don't worry,” he tried.

“Probably,” Q agreed tensely.

“Then you can calm down, can't you?” James let Q walk the stairs first, following shortly behind him.

“No, I can't. I have a phobia, Bond, I can't just shut it down.”

“Not even if you know that we will be fine?”

They passed the flight attendant who tore their boarding passes and told them the obvious seats they already knew.

“A phobia, 007, is an irrational fear of something. I know there is no rational reason to be more afraid then when driving a car, but that doesn't make me feel any better about stepping into a huge iron machine that should carry me through air kilometres above the ground. Oh, and shit, I sit by the window.”

“No, you don't,” James pushed himself past Q and sat down on his seat. Q looked a bit baffled, then he sat down into James' seat. Seconds later a tall man joined them in the aisle seat.

“Try breathing exercises,” James suggested. “Think of England.”

“That is bad sex, not a plane ride, Bond.”

“That's an idea, think of sex.”

Q scoffed. He couldn't possibly think of anything even slightly pleasurable right now.

“After we take off, you can turn on your computer and watch something. Would that help?”

Q shrugged. Yes, he could cling to his laptop, if he wasn't so damn afraid of the effects of electronics on planes. His phone was already turned off before they even reached the airport.

“Why didn't you drug yourself?” asked James. Q shuddered.

“I don't like having my brain numb. That's why I don't drink.”

James quirked his mouth in a half grin. Numb mind could be a very pleasurable thing if your mind hurt whenever it WASN'T numbed.

The flight attendants started to close the cabin spaces above their heads and new panic rose in Q's chest. He fastened his seatbelt and put the laptop bag under his legs. The plane started to move.

“Q, we're still on ground, look,” Bond's voice came from his right, trying to calm him.

“I don't want to,” Q said stubbornly, gripping his seat hard.

“Q, look.”

Q looked. Outside the window he could see the quickly passing lights, indicating the path of the plane.

“This is a car ride,” James said convincingly. “And it will go on like this for minutes, so calm down.”

Q nodded. The flight attendants positioned themselves and started to give the safety presentation. He listened with mixed feelings – thinking about dying didn't help, but knowing that there was SOME hope for surviving was calming.

The fact that they were still on the ground helped for about a minute. Then the terrible anticipation started to build and he just waited when the nightmare begins. Quick glances Bond's direction told him that the agent was absolutely content, reading through some magazines he found in the seatback in front of him.

“Would it help if I held your hand?” Bond asked suddenly, not turning his gaze away from the papers. Q thought he was mocking him at first, but the agent's voice didn't sound sarcastic.

“Don't be ridiculous!” he snapped finally, blushing slightly. Was he that obvious? Yes, once in a while he thought about Bond in an unprofessional manner. But it was hard not to. Q believed that even Bond thought of himself in that unprofessional manner.

He was looking at him when the plane took off.

And that moment was filled with sensations. First, of course, the panic. He felt his heart sink twenty centimetres south. His body was pushed into the seat and adrenalin filled him. But that all was accompanied by Bond's expression and Q simply couldn't look away.

Because Bond closed his eyes, let himself be pushed back and a very tender, pleasurable smile appeared on his lips. His face was suddenly ten years younger. And as the plane levelled, so did Bond's breathing, his chest heaving steadily. And as the plane rose again, so did his expression.

Finally, they were up, as high as it gets, and Bond opened his eyes to find transfixed Q staring at him. Q even forgot to be scared. Of course, the terror was still there, but not so urgent, not that real. He distantly felt his worries, but Bond took all of his attention.

“I love flying,” Bond said apologetically and looked down. Q had to smile.

“Yes, I can see that,” he said. “It's beautiful.”

He realized what he said after he said it. His eyes went wide and he turned his head away, sure he was blushing. He heard James laugh, but again, it didn't sound mocking.

“I'm glad I seem beautiful to you,” James said after.

“I didn't mean…” Q turned back, but James' eyes were shining with laughter and that stopped him in his track.

“Don't be shy, Q. It suits you, but I'd like to see you confident in something besides work.”

Q blushed even more. His job was a stable place of rules, where he was the ruler. Outside it, he… he was the little geek that didn't fit anywhere, and he hated when people saw it, mostly people from work. He had to have some respect.

“What is it that you love about it?” he asked to draw attention away.

“I guess… the feeling of power all around me. Sitting in something so strong… as you said, carrying us through the air, but I like the idea of something that can pick up tons and just go. It's exciting.”

Q thought about how differently could people think about the same thing, how all Bond said was scarring the shit out of him, but making the agent happy.

The pilot's voice announced that they can unfasten their seatbelts and walk around the cabin.

“I guess you don't want to unfasten your belt?” Bond asked with a knowing smirk. Q just nodded, the tension in him building up again.

“Could you maybe… hide the window?” he asked the agent. Bond pulled the little blind over his little window to please his little colleague.

Q started to fidget with the hem of his cardigan, trying not to freak out again. It was highly embarrassing to act like a child in front of the deadliest man in England, and he didn't want to look even more stupid than he did by now. Although he doubted there was any way he could top this amount of stupidity.

He was in the middle of his darkest thoughts when a hand touched his cheek, turned his head and cropped lips touched his full ones. His breath hitched as James Bond kissed him, slowly licking his lips.

When Bond pulled back, he realized he had to open his eyes to actually SEE his expression. Bond was smiling lightly, just a touch of smugness in his eyes.

“What the fuck, Bond?” Q sighed and cursed himself for sounding like a fourteen year old girl.

“Helped, didn't it?” Bond asked. Q opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn't possibly say yes, and he didn't want to lie. Mostly because THAT would be another show of his stupidity.

“You can't snog me the whole flight to Munich,” he objected logically. Although that wouldn't be a bad idea…

“No,” Bond said. “But now you need ten minutes to think about it, don't you?”

Q huffed an amused breath. Ten minutes. Who was that guy? He weighted his pros and cons – he already DID look like an idiot and Bond was a sexy man and a great kisser, almost surely great in bed, if it ever went to that; professional questions – nah, Moneypenny slept with him, too, no big deal; what did Bond actually want – he was probably bored, he did look bored, and if not, Q was too intelligent to fall into a trap, few people already tried that in every possible way as a part of that training. In thirty five seconds, Q shrugged.

“What the hell,” he said and pulled surprised Bond to him by his shirt collar to kiss him. When he pulled away, he met Bond's questioning look.

“I am quick,” he said simply and kissed him again.

This time none of them kept back, licking languid kisses deep into each other's mouth. Bond snugged a hand in between them, unfastened Q's seatbelt, hugged his hips and pulled him closer.

Someone coughed behind Q's head and he pulled back to look at a flight attendant offering drinks and refreshments. She didn't look very approving, but calling them on their snogging would be homophobic, so she kept her mouth shut. Q shook his head and looked at Bond, suspecting he will order something alcoholic, but the agent just waved her off. Q raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Bond asked.

“You don't want to drink anything?” Q asked as if he was stating the obvious. Bond smiled.

“I have something else to numb my mind,” he said and kissed Q again.

They spent another few minutes like this. Q pressed himself on Bond's solid body, stroking the clothed muscles with his hands, and soon Bond's palm squeezed his arse. If they still weren't in that bloody plane, he would probably already have a starting erection. Which made him think if Bond had an erection…,

A sudden turbulence made his heart jump and he pulled back in Bond's arms.

“Fuck!”

Bond felt Q's body begin to tremble.

“It's OK, Q,” he said in that silky voice of his and stroked Q's cheek with his calloused hand. “If it was anything serious, they'd tell us to sit down and fasten our seatbelts.”

Q nodded, but the fear from his eyes didn't disappear.

“Come here,” Bond spread his knees apart, hugged Q tighter, shifted him and placed him so he was sitting in the hollow in between his legs. He cuddled him and Q nudged his head in the good smelling crease between his neck and shoulder. His fingers dug into Bond's shirt and he could feel his stomach.

“You're a little kitten,” he heard Bond's amused voice and that made him blush. A strong hand went to his hair and started to pet him absentmindedly.

“Why do you waste your time with me, then?” Q asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought your type were beautiful, elegant women. Not scared boffins.”

Bond laughed.

“If I have a type, it seems to be damsels in distress. And assassins, sometimes.”

He turned his head so his lips were close to Q's ear.

“And you are cute.”

Q blushed again, but this time he smiled as well.

“So what do you do with damsels in distress?” he asked and shuddered at the warm breath that licked his ear.

They had exactly twenty five minutes until the pilot told them to fasten their seatbelts again. Twenty five minutes of slight kisses and dirty whispers and at the end, Q DID have a slight problem keeping it in his pants.

And three hours after, when they left the airport and checked in to their “single rooms” in a Munich hotel, he didn't have to keep anything anywhere.


End file.
